Masen Rules: The Beginning
by CaraNo
Summary: Our beginning was rocky as hell; we both screwed up a lot, but we came out strong—solid. The first year was the worst, yet I fell so hard for that girl. (Prequel to Masen Rules)
1. Chapter 1

**So, this is the prequel to _Masen Rules_, and you'll get to see how Edward and Bella met, dealt with her drug problem, and how they fell in love. The HEA is a given since we know how they end up, but this story is still labeled Angst/Romance. The summary says it all, and the story's pretty gritty. I've spent a lot of time with research, so don't expect a fairy tale. **

**Beta'd by Lisa, pre-read by Kitty, and Najs is my Philly girl ;)**

**Posting schedule: I have several chapters pre-written, so I'll post often, but until _Masen Rules_ is wrapped up, don't expect more than one a day. I may post more, but don't count on it.**

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**Masen Rules: The Beginning**

_Our beginning was rocky as hell; we both screwed up a lot, but we came out strong—solid. The first year was the worst, yet I fell so damn hard for that girl._

_- Edward Masen, chapter 30 of Masen Rules_

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**1.**

**EPOV**

_What a fucking high!_

I leave Demetri's shop almost with a fucking skip in my step, but I can't help it. For the first time in my life, I've actually given someone a tattoo. Granted, that someone was Dem himself, but he fucking likes it—told me I'd done a great job.

So, when I arrive at the bar where I earn money to afford the shitty little place Dem offered me here in Queens, I enter with a grin on my face. And my boss, old man Felix, notices and tells me, "Looks like you got laid."

I snicker to myself as I tie the black apron around my hips, almost telling him that I got something better than laid, but then, nah. It's pretty fucking hard to beat sex, which I haven't had in too long. But this night can't be ruined, I swear to Christ.

Maybe I should get out soon and try to score, though. I just don't know when I'd find the time. Between the apprenticeship at Dem's during the day and my job at Felix's at night, I'm pretty goddamn wiped out when I hit the sack. I only have Sundays and Mondays off, and that's when I sleep all day and watch TV.

All those thoughts fly out of my head as my shift begins, and I work alongside Felix behind the bar. It's a Friday night and the neighborhood regulars fill up the small place pretty quickly. None of those fancy Manhattan folk who order drinks in every color of the rainbow.

Living in New York, I've been nicknamed Philly by a few old-timers in the bar, and they happen to be from my neck of the woods, too. They speak of when Philadelphia was the country's capital like they remember it—as if they were alive back then.

Then, after my shift, I count my tips and buy a grinder on my way home.

It's when I'm outside my building that a tiny chick stumbles into me.

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**So...who's in? :)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Forgot to mention: we're a little more than 9 years back now, so…2002 or 2003? Somewhere around there—it doesn't really matter what year. But Edward is 21 and Bella is 18.**

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**2.**

**EPOV**

"Sorry," she mumbles, looking at the ground. No, staring as if she's actually looking for something. "Tryin'a find my…"

"Hey." I frown, wondering what's wrong. It's only mid-September, so it's not very cold, but the nights do get chilly, and she's only wearing this miniscule dress. "You okay?" I don't really have time for this shit; I have my own issues, but she looks fragile. Literally. Like a twig ready to snap. She's skinny, barely clothed, and her hair is a clusterfuck.

"I dropped my purse," she rasps in a whisper. "Um, right here. I think. Last night."

"In New York?" I cock a brow, my mouth quirking up even though it's not really funny. But it kinda is. "Good luck finding it, honey."

So far, she hasn't looked up even once.

I don't know why I'm still standing here. She looks like one of the women who I sometimes see standing in line at the women's shelter a few blocks away. For all I know, she's some drugged-up hooker.

"I gotta find it," she croaks, pushing hair away from her face. The only thing I see is pale skin. "I need it." She lets out a whimper.

My brows knit together, and my conscience gets the best of me. "Look, you want me to help you get home or something?" I look over my shoulder, wondering if she lives nearby or if she really is homeless. But…it doesn't really add up since she's only wearing that club dress. "Yo." I nudge her shoulder.

At last, she looks up.

"Jesus Christ," I mutter, trapped. Round eyes. Dark. Doe-like. She's a fucking kid. She can't be more than fifteen or sixteen. "Uh." I rub the back of my neck. "Where are your parents?" That's a good question, I think.

"Parents." She smiles a little but not really. "They're dead," she says flatly, then starts checking the ground again. "I need my purse. It's got all my money for rent."

Rent. Got it. Um… "Where do you live?" I ask. It's almost three in the morning, so it's gotta be close, right?

"Murray Hill," she mumbles.

My eyebrows lift. "Fancy." And nowhere near Queens. This girl doesn't really look like she belongs in Manhattan, though. "You, uh, live there alone?" I scrunch my nose, doubting that.

She snorts and places her hands on her hips. "Dude—" she gives me a look "—you think I could afford a place in Murray Hill on my own?"

I shrug, fighting a smile.


	3. Chapter 3

**So...a grinder, that's a hot/toasted sub - for those who don't know Philly speak. I accidently wrote hoagie at first, but shame on me. God forbid and all that. Najs and Lisa put me in my place, stating that a hoagie ain't hot. 'Scuse me ;) In Sweden we call it _macka_ or _smörgås_...or sub...if we get 'em at Subway. Ever heard of a smorgasbord? _Smörgåsbord_, if you wanna be all correct 'bouddit. Yeah, look'it what the Swedes bring ya. **

**I got too many words in my head.**

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**3.**

**EPOV**

"Listen—" she clears her throat "—it's pretty clear I'm not gonna find my fucking purse, so…" She wrings her hands awkwardly and averts her eyes for a moment. "You think I can I get money for a cab?"

I smirk. "You think I'm made of money?" She's nuts—straight up.

What the fuck do I know? Maybe this is her game. She pretends to be looking for her purse, looking all vulnerable, and then some poor schmuck will take pity on her and give her money.

"Um…" She takes a step toward me, appearing torn and…desperate, really. "I could always work for it?"

By now, she's got a hand on my chest.

I look down at it, not amused.

"Firstly, I don't pay for it." I remove her hand. "Secondly, you're a child."

"I'm eighteen," she spits out, and my eyebrows shoot up. I'm honestly shocked, 'cause she looks so fucking young. Behind the black streaks of eyeliner and mascara around her eyes, I can see that she's a pretty girl, but I'm emphasizing _girl_ here. She's also skinny to the point where you see bones, and just…just no. "Here." She reveals something from her dress—or bra, whatever. It's a driver's license. "Look for yourself. Eighteen."

I do look. She is eighteen. She's also from Philly, but it's not like I recognize the zip code, so I have no clue where in Philly she's from.

_Isabella Marie Swan._

Noticing her date of birth, I hand it back and say, "Happy belated birthday." Hers was a few days ago. Then I point to the card as she puts it away. "One would think you'd keep that in your purse. Good thing you didn't, huh?" That said, I unwrap my grinder and take a bite out of it. Fuck, it's almost cold now. Next, I notice how Isabella stares at my food, and I suddenly feel like shit. "Um. You want?" I hold it out.

"Thanks." She nods furiously and takes it from me; meanwhile, her eyes are welling up with tears. It's like she hasn't seen food in days. "God," she moans with her mouth full.

I feel awkward just standing here watching her inhale the food, but I'm starting to feel really bad for her, so I remain where I am instead of running upstairs to my place. I'm still wary, though. You can't trust anyone for shit, and Isabella does come with a few huge warning signs.

"What're you doing in Queens?" I ask, wanting more info.

She shrugs, still eating. "Nothing now. The shelter's full. I was too late—gotta be there before five to stand a chance."

My eyes narrow. "I thought you lived in Murray Hill."

"I do—" she chews and swallows "—but only when I can pay. Tyler says you gotta have the money up front when you go in. He's got this big apartment there. A few of my friends live there."

_Well, this guy sounds just awesome_.


	4. Chapter 4

**4.**

**EPOV**

"So, what were you doing in Queens yesterday?" I ask next, remembering that she said she'd dropped her purse here then.

"At a party." She shrugs and takes another bite. "Tyler wanted me to drop off—something…" She gets this guilty look on her face, so I'm pretty sure I get it. _Something_ could've been drugs.

"Right." I nod and stick my hands down my pockets.

"Fuck, this was so good." She drops the trash on the ground and licks her fingers. I'm torn between amusement and annoyance. "I'm willing to show you how thankful I am, you know. You really helped me out."

I smile wryly and reach for my smokes. "I'm not that desperate." Which feels like a half-lie. "And you shouldn't give away your body like that." I light one up and take a drag.

"Can I have one?" She points to my smoke, and I hand her one. "Thank you—" she sparks it up "—and I don't. Give away my body, I mean." I know I look skeptical at that, so maybe that's why she goes on. "Okay, I've—I mean…Tyler, but only him."

"That's still fucked up," I comment, for some reason feeling sad for this girl and her life. And I think I've had it rough?

"Yeah." She nods. "But it is what it is. So…anyway, I should get going. Thank you for the grinder and this." She holds up the smoke and gives me a crooked smile. A dimple appears. "I'm gonna try to get back to Murray Hill—"

"Wait!" I blurt out without thinking.


	5. Chapter 5

**5.**

**EPOV**

Call me crazy.

Certifiably fuckin' insane.

'Cause this shit just doesn't happen to people who're all there in the head.

I offer Isabella a place to crash tonight, and I lead her upstairs thinking I may have a few screws loose.

"There's nothing to steal," I say quickly as I unlock the door.

In return, she gives me a sad smile that makes me feel like shit again.

_Fuck_.

Still…can't really blame me. The world is a fucked-up place.

"So, this is it." I rub the back of my neck and let her enter first. From the tiny piece of hallway, you can see the entire studio, which is tiny. To the left of the hallway is a small kitchen; I can barely fit in it. To our right is the bathroom, and straight ahead is the living space. There's a couch and a coffee table, a mattress on the floor, and a TV in the corner. That's it.

Well, there's a closet right next to me here in the hallway, and I offer Isabella one of my t-shirts to sleep in, and she accepts with a small smile and then says she's gonna go to the bathroom.

While she's in there, I grab a Coke and the leftovers of my falafel from yesterday. Then I sit down on the couch in the living room and eat in silence as I look out the window. And I wonder what the hell I've gotten myself into.

I'm not _too_ worried, 'cause my earlier statement is sorta true. There's nothing in here to steal. The TV in the corner is too heavy for her to carry, and the DVD player is the cheapest on the market; plus, it doesn't always work. I wouldn't cry if it got stolen, in other words.

Pulling my shirt over my head, I lean back against the couch and finish the last of my soggy falafel. The couch isn't too horrible; it's pretty soft and deep, so I think I'll get _some_ sleep here. And Isabella can take the mattress next to the TV.

"Where do you want me?" Isabella appears in the room, causing me to jump a little. And where do I want her? _Christ_. Loaded question, I muse as I check her out. She's combed out her hair and pulled it up in some messy bun on her head, her makeup is all gone, and she's really only wearing my t-shirt. Granted, it reaches mid-thigh, but it's still revealing 'cause one of her shoulders peeks out and she's not wearing a bra.

Other than being way too skinny, the appeal is definitely there. All of a sudden.

I clear my throat. "You can take the bed."

She eyes it. "We can both fit in there."

Yeah, well… "I'll be fine on the couch." I smile tightly.


	6. Chapter 6

**6.**

**EPOV**

When I wake up the next morning, I do it before the alarm clock goes off. An hour before, actually.

Isabella's still asleep on the mattress, her covers having been kicked aside, and her t-shirt has ridden up to expose a black thong, hips, and her stomach.

Gritting my teeth, I walk over to the window, crack it open, and light up a morning smoke. I hiss when the air hits my naked chest, but it'll only help me to wake up. Plus, it kills my morning wood.

After the last drag, I drop the butt in the soda can from last night, and then I head to the bathroom. I take a piss, wash up, and brush my teeth. But since I'm good on time, I return to the couch afterward and put on the TV, keeping the volume low.

Only a few minutes later, Isabella stirs awake and rolls over onto her stomach.

_Don't stare at her ass, Masen._

"Mornin'," she mumbles sleepily into the pillow.

"Good morning," I mutter. It's becoming increasingly difficult to keep my eyes on the TV, especially when she starts stretching. But I decide it's just the availability that has me talking my cock down. She's here, and she's already offered. That's why. 'Cause…she's not really my type. Well, I mean…it's her body. I want a girl with meat on her bones. A pretty face ain't everything.

Eventually, she disappears into the bathroom, and that gives me a moment to calm the fuck down. Since I'm only in my boxers, a hard-on isn't easy to hide. I suppose I could go get dressed—

"Hey." And she's back. Still wearing my t-shirt. And she sits down next to me on the couch. "I'll be on my way soon." She gives me a quick smile. "Thank you so much for letting me crash…?"

I realize she's after my name. "Edward." I nod. "And no worries."

"Edward," she repeats softly.


	7. Chapter 7

**7.**

**EPOV**

"An old-fashioned name," she comments, twisting her body to face me fully. She rests her elbow on the back of the couch and her cheek in her hand.

"Named after my dad," I mutter and face the TV again.

She hums. "You're not from New York, are ya?"

I huff a little chuckle and flip the channels. "I'm from Philly, too."

"_Too_?"

"Yeah." I give her a sideways glance. "I saw your license, remember? _Isabella_."

"I go by Bella," she giggles. "So, you're from Philly. What part?"

"You're a chatty one." With a sigh, I turn off the TV and face her. "I grew up in Center City. Rittenhouse Square?"

She smirks. "And now you're slummin' it?" She waves a hand at the room.

"I'm not a fucking rich kid." It's only a half-lie. My dad's pretty loaded and we lived in a fancy townhouse, but I've never been spoiled. "Where're you from?" I jerk my chin at her.

She cocks a brow, a wry smile playing on her lips. "Kensington?"

Oh. Well, no wonder she sees me as a rich kid, then.

"But now you're in Queens," she muses and scoots closer. "Lemme guess. You're breaking free from your family to make it on your own?"

I roll my eyes. "Do I look stereotypical?"

"Yes."

"Fuck you," I laugh.

She just hums again. Then her fingers come up to trace the ink on my bicep. I suppress a shiver. "Struggling musician? No, I don't think so." She purses her lips. "An artist dreaming about pretentious galleries? No, not that either."

"Maybe I'm in college," I shoot back. Looking down, I see her fingers following the Pink Ribbon that's circled by barbed wire. "My mom," I answer her unasked question. "She died of cancer." And I don't know why the fuck I'm sharing this with a stranger.

Bella nods but doesn't comment. Then she says, "No, you're not in college." She flashes me a quick grin. "There're no textbooks anywhere."

I find myself staring at her fingers a bit too much, like I'm in some trance, and I'm beginning to curse the fact that I haven't gotten laid in six months. I've just been too busy. But if I wasn't so fucking horny, maybe resisting Bella would've been easier.

"I did see a business card on the fridge last night when I woke up and had some water, though," she continues softly. By now, she's tracing the inked Liberty Bell with my date of birth. "I'm gonna guess you're into tattoos—I mean, you've got almost a full sleeve here." Yeah, only a few pieces to go. "You wanna be a tattoo artist? Or maybe you already are one?"

I nod with a dip of my chin. "The former."

"That's cool." She moves another few inches toward me. "So…there's really no way I can thank you for your, um, _hospitality_?" She glances down at my boxers, in which my cock is slowly hardening. "I give pretty good head."


	8. Chapter 8

**Some are rooting for them to get it on, some wish Bella wouldn't give away her body so easily… You'll get the story of her past soon enough, but you can already notice in her behavior that offering sex when someone does something nice for her isn't new. **

**Special thanks—as always—to Lisa, Kitty, and Najs :)**

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**8.**

**EPOV**

"Oh, yeah?" I notice my tone has taken on a darker note—gruffer, huskier.

"Yeah." She seductively slides off the couch and kneels in front of me. I lick my lips, pretty sure I've already caved. And when she gently nudges my knees apart, I open up wider too eagerly. "You want me to suck your cock, Edward?"

My jaw tenses; doubt fills me. Her voice is too innocent for me to enjoy it. Or maybe I just view her as such. I don't fucking know. But I don't want her talking. Perhaps that's because it only reminds me of the reality of this situation: the fact that she's willing to blow me because I let her stay the night.

"You want it," she whispers and hooks her fingers into the waistband of my boxers. Without thinking, I lift up and let her pull them down. My hard-on slaps against my lower abdomen, eliciting a quiet groan from me.

I could say that it'd be impossible to push her away, but I'm not that lame. I simply don't want her to stop enough to actually say no. Hell, I don't want her to stop at all. And she doesn't. She grips my cock, and I hold my breath as she wraps her soft lips around the head. _My fucking God_. My head lolls back against the couch, and she doesn't tease me. She just sucks me down. Not all of me, but most of it, and fuck, she can suck _hard_.

"Yeah, like that," I moan. My hips buck into her; I've lost the last shred of decorum. I even place a hand on the back of her head to guide her. "Fuck, so good." Tensing the muscles in my ass, I begin to fuck her mouth slowly, thoroughly enjoying the slurpy sounds she makes. Then she begins to play with my balls, and my eyes nearly roll back. "Christ!" I hiss, feeling my orgasm building up quickly—too quickly. It's in her touch; she's not timid or hesitant. Not even close. It's like she knows I want it rough. I've always been that way.

When I'm only seconds away from coming, she hums around me, and I fist her hair, unable to hold back.

"Close," I manage to grit out.

She nods as much as she can and redoubles her efforts.

I let go with a loud moan and come in pulsing streams into her mouth.

Afterward, every muscle in me relaxes and it feels like I melt into the couch. Meanwhile, Bella goes to the sink in the kitchen to spit out my cum.

I light up a smoke, feeling pretty good about myself.


	9. Chapter 9

**9.**

**EPOV**

Dem laughs when I tell him about Bella, and he tells me it sounds like a good fucking agreement. His pun is totally intended. "A place to crash for her, and a safe lay for you," he adds, still laughing.

But Dem's little brother, Garrett, shudders and shakes his head. "Just remember to wrap it, buddy."

I keep unloading the boxes of supplies in the back of the tattoo shop. "She sucked me off. We didn't fuck."

"So?" He chuckles. "You can still get a STD from doing oral."

"WHAT?" I shout, almost dropping a box with bottles of antibacterial gel.

Is that true?!

"You didn't know that?" He smirks and hands me another box. I place it on its shelf. "That's I why I double-bag it—_always_."

Well, Garrett is a germaphobe. But maybe he's onto something.

"It's really true, though?" I whisper and cup my junk.

Who knows where Bella's been?

After this morning's spectacular blowjob, she was out the door within ten minutes. No awkwardness. Just a smile and a thanks for letting her crash. So, it's not like I can contact her, 'cause she's not the type'a girl you ask for a number.

"It's true," Garrett confirms. "I'd get my shit tested if I were you."

Believe me. I will.

~oOo~

The next couple of weeks pass quickly; I'm basically too busy to notice.

Sometimes, I fleetingly think about Bella, hoping she's okay. And once I'd gotten my test results back—all negative, thank God—I may or may not have started to think about her mouth, too. But I chalk it up, again, to the fact that I'm too busy to go out and get laid. It is what it is, though. I'm here because I wanna be a tattoo artist, not to collect notches on my proverbial bedpost.

One Saturday, I walk home in the middle of the night after a particularly exhausting shift at the bar, and I stop by at the Turk near my building, whose store is open 24/7. There, I buy all the shit I can imagine needing over my next two days that I'm off—not counting the takeout I'll order. I stock up on sodas, snacks, some vegetables, bread, cream cheese, and smokes.

Then I walk home, noticing that, once more, the door to my building is broken. You can see that someone's tried to use a crowbar on it, but that's just how it is here.


	10. Chapter 10

**10.**

**EPOV**

I wake up way too early on Sunday morning to a constant knocking on my door.

"Gimme a fucking minute!" I shout angrily, leaving my mattress on the floor. I step into a pair of sweats and wonder who the hell it can be. I mean, it's Dem's place, and the only people I really know in the city are him, Garrett, Felix, and a couple others who I work with. For a second, I fear that my family has tracked me down, but nah. Why would they? So, I unlock the bolt and remove the chain then rip the door open, realizing too late that I didn't check the peephole first.

It's Bella.

My shoulders sag with some unknown emotion rushing through me.

"Hi." She looks shy.

My brows knit together as I take in her appearance—mainly the fucking bruise on her cheek. But also the ratty jeans and black Henley she's wearing. They look like they've seen better days.

"What the fuck happened?" I open the door wider and she enters, looking nothing like the chick who blew me a couple weeks ago. She's all awkward, timid, and apprehensive.

"Long story." She forces a smile and holds up a plastic bag. "Breakfast?"

I cock a brow, the dull ache reminding me of the fact that I pierced it a few days ago. "I'd rather hear that long story," I say and close the door. But then the smell hits me, and whatever that's in that bag…I suddenly want it. "Um, guess we could eat, too," I mutter.

I'm about to blurt out some shit about Masen Rule Number Nineteen, but I stop myself, hating my father a bit more for so many reasons. Plus, she takes off her sneakers without my saying anything.

With a wave of my hand, I gesture for her to walk in first, and I follow. She sets down a duffle bag next to the couch before sitting down, and I wonder if she's left that…Taylor dude. Or was it Tyler? _Whatever_.

"Sorry I woke you up," she says sheepishly.

"Forget about it." I sit down on the other end of the couch and stretch my arms and yawn. "You okay?" I nod in thanks as she hands me what looks like a kebab wrap, though it smells like chicken. And whaddya know—it's chicken kebab. These are good.

"I went with garlic and hot sauce." She points. "Hope that's okay."

I grin and dig in. "Delicious," I say with a mouthful. Sometimes there's nothing like dinner for breakfast. "So…" I give her a look that tells her to start talking.

She shrugs and picks out a slice of tomato from her wrap, tossing it into the bag. "Just got into an argument with Tyler, and I didn't know where else to go."

"Yeah, no—" I nod "—I got that. I can see the argument on your face."


	11. Chapter 11

**11.**

**EPOV**

She flashes me a quick grin and holds up her bruised knuckles. "I gave as good as I got."

"I'm glad you did." And I am. But I'm also worried. This girl can't be more than a hundred pounds, if that, so I kinda wanna shove my boot up this Tyler dude's ass. "I think there's a bag of frozen string beans in the freezer if you wanna put it on your hand." It doesn't look very swollen, but it's definitely red.

"Thanks, but it's okay." She takes a bite from her kebab; I do too. "I took a couple Percs, so it's all good. Really, I can hardly feel it."

_Percocets, huh?_

We eat in silence for a while, but my mind starts spinning. I admit that I might be judging her easily, but I can't help it. She comes with too many warning signs for me to just ignore it. Percocets aren't difficult to get on the street; it's a prescription drug, and I find it hard to believe Bella's gone to the doctor about this. Then again, Percs are nothing compared to oxys.

"So, now what?" I ask as I crumple the paper into a ball. Bella holds out the bag, and I throw it there. "Thank you for breakfast." I walk over the window, open it up, and light up a smoke. "You really don't have anywhere to go?" I return to the couch and pull the ashtray closer.

"Not this minute." She nibbles on her bottom lip and puts away half her wrap. "I'mma try the shelter later."

I grimace, not liking that idea at all.

"Can I ask you a favor, though?" She looks to me hesitantly, and I think…_here we go_. She's gonna ask to stay with me.

And I know I'll say yes.

"Sure…" I nod and flick some ashes into the tray.

"Can I keep my duffle here?"

I frown. "What?"

"My duffle bag." She points down to it. "Can I keep it here? I mean, feel free to go through it—it's just, I-I don't want it t-to be stolen," she stammers nervously. "There're just clothes and some personal stuff. Feel free to go through it," she repeats.

I feel like an asshole.

It doesn't get better when I see that she's trying to hide how her eyes well up.

"Stay here," I say, clearing my throat. Bella looks shocked and confused, so I nod and elaborate. "You can stay here with me."

In retrospect, this was the moment Bella stole the first little piece of my heart.


	12. Chapter 12

**12.**

**EPOV**

After nervously telling me that she has no stable income—like this came as a shock—I tell her it's okay; she doesn't have to pay me. I already knew, anyway. But she insists I give her something to do, so before she can offer up her body for me, I suggest she can be in charge of doing our laundry and keep the apartment clean or whatever.

Then, after explaining where I do my laundry, she takes a shower while I do absolutely nothing. Next, I show her my meager collection of bootleg DVDs that I keep in a case on the floor between the bed and the TV. She laughs a little when she flips through the "pages" where I stash my porn, but I just smirk and ask if she wants to watch some with me. Which is a fucking joke, so I can't say I'm prepared when she says yes. Though, I brush that off me and tell her to keep looking.

She ends up picking _Speed_, stating that I don't have enough chick flicks.

That's true, because they suck.

"I don't know when I last saw a movie," she giggles and gets comfy on the couch.

I don't respond, but I frown to myself as I dump a bag of chips on the coffee table. Two sodas follow, and then I push play on the DVD and sit down next to her on the couch. Bella's changed into one of my t-shirts again, and she's holding up the covers for me. I guess she took those from the bed when I was in the kitchen.

"So, this is what you do on Sundays and Mondays?" she asks as I pull the covers over my legs.

"Pretty much," I answer. "By the time I head into work on Tuesday morning, there's a print in the shape of my ass on the couch."

She chuckles a little and rests her head on my arm.

Well, this is different.


End file.
